


The Man on the Train

by Sophia_Bee



Series: Charles and Erik: Man on The Train [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Assault, Cute, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Big Dorkface, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Marijuana, Poor Charles, Scott is a douche, Workplace Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is heading home from a shift at the busy emergency department of the urban hospital where he works as a nurse. He meets Dr. Erik Lehnsherr on the train, who is clearly interested in Charles, but Charles has a rule. He does not date doctors. Not at all. Never, ever ever. But he does shake his ass at Erik, which might be his downfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Train

**Author's Note:**

> I am combining my love of Cherik with my love of medicine. We'll see how it all turns out.

“This isn’t Grey’s Anatomy, you know.” Charles finally says, looking over the book he’s been buried in for the last twenty minutes, ignoring the fact that the man who is sprawled across from him has been staring at him since they got on the train together. He's wearing scrubs, like Charles and probably thinks they're going to get it on in a supply closet, like the TV show, and finally Charles decides to set him straight. “It’s not ER either. Or Nurse Jackie. Or even St. Elsewhere.”

The man’s eyebrow raises and he snorts a little at Charles’ last example of medicine in pop culture. At least he has a sense of humor. “St. Elsewhere? Going old school?” he asks, and Charles notes he has a slight accent but he can’t entirely place it. Charles goes back to reading. The man goes back to staring.

“And I’m not going to sleep with you and fulfill your sexy male nurse fantasy” Charles says, breaking the silence again, staring at but not reading the words on the pages but not lowering his book this time, “I’m a professional, doing a professional job. Nurses are not sex objects."

“I wasn’t going to ask you to,” comes the smooth voice again, tinged with a hint of laughter. Now Charles lowers his book again to meet gray-green eyes that are clearly amused, and the man shrugs a little,  “well, maybe I was.”

Charles blushes.

“Look, I’ve a had a long shift,” Charles says. It had been brutal. Three MVCs, a drunk guy throwing poop and some kid had vomited on his man-clogs. “and I don’t date interns. Long standing policy."

The other man looks startled. “Why do you think I’m an intern? I could be something else altogether. Maybe I’m a nurse.”

“You’re missing the white cap with the red cross,” Charles says archly. The other man smiles.

“No, seriously, are you assuming I’m a doctor because I’m male...”

Charles rolls his eyes and points to the other man’s chest, then puts his book back up again, as if to keep reading and be done with this conversation, then says, as if it were obvious, because it is, “name badge.”

“Oh.”

It’s a thing you do when you work in a busy hospital. You see a badge and your eyes go straight to it, because half the time you have no idea who you’re talking to, what service they’re on, if they’re a physical therapist or a physician. The blue scrubs are the great equalizer. Charles had scanned his badge the first time he’d lowered his book.

“Dr. Lehnsherr,” Charles says, showing off a little. “Plus some of the nurses think you’re cute. They were discussing it in the break room.”

“OH!”

“After this encounter, I suspect they’ll be sad when I tell them you don’t swing their way.”

“Who says I don’t,” Dr. Lehnsherr says, his mouth twisting a little, trying to hold back a smile. Charles puts his book down again and shoots him his best, ‘Girl, PLEASE’ look, then says, “you've been cruising me for the last half hour."

The other man laughs then puts out his hand. “Erik,” he says. Charles takes his hand and it’s warm with a firm grip, “and you really don’t date doctors?”

Charles gives Erik’s hand a firm grip. “Charles,” he says, “and no, I don’t date doctors.”

“That’s too bad,” Erik murmurs, "because some of the doctors in the break room were discussing how cute they think you are.”

Now it’s Charles’ turn to snort. “You don’t have a break room.”

“Maybe I was just thinking that to myself in the elevator while I checked out your ass.”

Charles blushes. Oh good lord, this man is way too funny and too hot. A dangerous combination.

“So,” Erik says, leaning closer, the smile getting bigger, ”are you tempted?”

Charles gulps. Despite that he’s sure he stinks, he’s exhausted, if this man were to suggest a quick shag in the train bathroom, he might say yes, and what the fuck is wrong with him. If he has a rule about not dating people at work, why does he think fucking them would be totally okay. Charles brings a finger to his mouth and chews on fingernail as he stares at the man, Dr. Erik, sitting across from him who is now licking his lips.

“Tempted to what?” Charles asks, sounding more coy than he wants to. He realizes suddenly that sounding coy while chewing on one’s pinky finger might look more than a little inappropriate, and a whole bunch of flirtatious, so he puts his hand down in his lap, on top of the book he had been happily ensconced in not long ago before being so rudely interrupted, and tries to work up a glare.

“Break your rule. About dating.”

“No.” Charles says firmly. He doesn’t date doctors, and even cute Dr. Erik will not sway him.

“Why not?”

“It would be bad,” Charles says, “At some point we’d realize we hate each other and then I still have to work with you, and then you might decide to be a pissy bitch and not give my the oxycodone order I need.”

“I would never be a pissy bitch,” Erik says quickly, smiling again “but maybe just a straight up bastard.”

Charles laughs at that one. “So you see our problem. I can’t have that kind of stuff getting in my way. It would make it so I can’t do my job.”

“Well, since we’ve broken up already,” Erik says, laughing, “I guess I’m out of luck.”

Charles smiles, and he likes this Erik person who is being incredibly snarky on the train to a total stranger.

“I guess so.”

The train arrives at the next stop, slowing as it enters the station and Charles leans down to pick up his messenger bag, then looks up to see Erik watching him.

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Lehnsherr,” Charles says, “thanks for making my ride home more pleasant.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Erik says, “Nurse, ummmmm…”

“Xavier,” Charles provides.

Charles sees Erik blink when he reveals his last name and he readies himself to say yes, THOSE Xavier's. The ones who donate money and have a wing named after them, and yes, he's a nurse in the emergency room and no, he's not slumming, he actually loves his job. Erik surprises Charles and says nothing, and Charles is relieved to not have to explain his family to a random stranger once again.

“Okay, see you around, Nurse Xavier.”

“Sure,” Charles says, then exits the train. Sorry Dr. Erik Lehnsherr, that’s most likely not going happen, and he's quite sure the other man is checking out his ass again, and just in case, and entirely against his better judgement, Charles wiggles it cheekily, then bites his lip to hold back the laughter that bubbles up, before the people around him think he’s mentally ill, laughing to himself in the train station.

His townhouse isn't far from the train. That was one of his reasons for taking a job on the ER of an inner city hospital and not the one on Westchester county, which was practically a country club. He wanted something where he could live close by and not have to drive. His mother had looked disappointed when he told her his plans, but Sharon has made looking disappointed in Charles an art form. The air is brisk as he walks the short distance to his place and Charles shivers a little. When he reaches his house he kicks his man-clogs off, leaving them on the small stoop, then puts his keys in the door and pushes it open. Charles is met by the smell of dinner, onion and garlic and something smelling like curry. Raven has invaded again. He smiles broadly then sings out, “Honey, I’m home.”

Charles walks up the stairs and onto the level of the kitchen, starting to tell his sister about the man on the train,

“You wouldn’t believe the guy from work who was on the train with me, he actually had the nerve to…”

Charles voice fades as he enters his kitchen and finds his sister standing in the middle of it, holding a spoon and watching him with a mischievous look on her face, surrounded by a huge shock of blue hair that’s sticking up everywhere. She is sticking her tongue at him, like an impertinent four year old, and what Charles sees makes him entirely forget the story he was telling her.

“Raven!”

“It’s the hair, isn’t it?” she says jauntily, “I know it was purple last week but I thought for the upcoming special occasion I’d go with blue…

“RAVEN!” Charles says again, “What have you done to your tongue?”

She smiles. “Oh, that? Just another piercing. Hank likes it. He says it really enhances…”

“NO!” Charles says forcefully. “You know my rules. Nothing about your sex life. NOTHING.”

“You are all about rules, Charles, for godsake.”

“Can you take it out?” Charles asks.

“It has to heal.”

“Right before mother’s party? Really?”

“She’ll get over it. Anyway, it’s not really a party. It’s the annual shaming of Charles Francis Xavier for not doing what mommy dearest wanted him to do and becoming a nurse instead of a doctor. If I have to attend, why shouldn't I attend kicking and screaming?”

Raven is right. Sharon never cared about the sick and destitute until Charles told her he was going back to school to become a nurse. She had asked him why his biology degree wasn’t enough, had suggested he would better the family name if he’d become a doctor instead, but Charles had refused to considering anything but nursing, telling her he felt he had a gift for helping people and this was how he wanted to do it. Once Charles had said ‘no’ to Sharon, she decided to exact her revenge in her usual passive aggressive way by becoming the biggest benefactor ever seen at Charles’ hospital, leaving him continually embarrassed and making him suffer through countless events where she told anyone who would listen that while her son was JUST a nurse, she thought he would have made a truly great doctor.

This was also how the Xavier Fellowship came about, which was what Raven was referring to. It was a position funded by Sharon and she announced her choice of visiting fellow every year at a huge black tie soirée at the mansion and every year he and Raven were expected to attend. Raven had turned it into a huge game, showing up every year dressed increasingly outrageously and entirely predictable, and Charles had gone as far to suggest that she dye her hair blonde, coif it and show up in a pantsuit, which actually would be shocking. Instead she'd gone and gotten her tongue pierced. There was a good chance Sharon would end up too drunk to notice by the end of the evening but Charles applauded the effort.

"Want to go get mani-pedis with me and Hank tomorrow? Hank is getting his nails done blue to match mine and he found this awesome powder-blue vintage tux to wear!"

"You just can't control yourself, can you?"

Raven grins at him then licks the spoon she’s holding and puts it back into the pot that's bubbling on the stove, causing Charles to wince.

"So?" Raven says, "meet me at the salon? Sharon is sending a car at 6 pm."

"Working," Charles says as he opens the fridge and grabs a beer. "Sorry."

"Ugh," Raven huffs, "stupid job,"

"Stupid job I love. Some of us like to work and didn't bamboozle mother into eternally supporting our art career."

Raven huffs again and levels a glare at Charles, "you know, I have two gallery shows coming up. You should come. Bring a date."

Now it's Charles' turn to glare. Raven knows very well that Charles hasn't dated since the disastrous Summer of Scott, which ended with Charles proposing and Scott telling him they were better as friends.

They eat dinner, some moroccan stew Raven whipped up from a cooking class she’s been taking. Charles kicks her out, telling her to go give Hank a blow job, or something, and Raven says she thought he didn’t want to know about her sex life, and since he brought it up, maybe he could give her some pointers. Charles hugs her and tells her he loves her, because Raven is honestly one of the best things in his life. Then he goes to bed and dreams of the man on the train.

The next day Charles faces another brutal shift. Their emergency department is stuffed full of people, from car crashes to a woman with a black eye from an alcohol infused domestic abuse situation who is still drunk and refusing to press charges. It’s the usual crush of humanity, and Charles is in the middle of it, and while most days he can keep up his defenses, today is one of the days when he feels overwhelmed with all of the sadness around him, like he might collapse under the weight of it. It’s his empathy, both a blessing and a curse, Raven sometimes tells him when he comes home and curls on the couch and cries because it feels like too much, then gets up the next morning and does it all over again.

The last thing he wants to do is go to Sharon’s damn soiree, but Charles knows he can’t miss. Most of the time his mother keeps her distance, involved in whatever her latest pet project is, but when she narrows her focus onto Charles and his life, he’s learned that the best protection is to jump when she says jump and get it over with. The Xavier Fellowship soirée is one of those times.

Raven texts him a picture of Hank’s blue fingernails sometime during his shift and Charles looks at it and smiles. At least he’ll have her by his side tonight to keep him sane and slowly get drunk with. Since mother is sending the car, they won’t have to drive back into the city.

He takes the train home again, and this time no Dr. Erik. Actually, he hadn’t seen Dr. Erik all day long, not that he’d spent much time glancing around, trying to catch sight of the tall man with the gray-green eyes. He had not done that at all. Charles tells himself that now he can keep reading his book, ignoring the slight twinge of disappointment. When he gets home he again leaves his man-clogs, nicknamed by Raven, outside, then finds his way to the shower and pulls his tuxedo out of the closet. At least he’d remembered to get it cleaned last week.

Charles gets dressed then he looks in the mirror. His hair is a little longer than he usually likes, a little floppy. His eyes look tired. He sighs. Another night for mother and then he can get back to his life in the city and ignore like he usually does.

The doorbell rings, and Charles opens it to find Raven standing outside, and when did she start actually asking to enter his house, and when Charles sees her, he gasps,

“Good god, Raven, WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?”

It’s a nude cocktail dress, slim and fitted, with a short hemline and a plunging neckline, and it blends so well into her pale skin that you have to give it a second look to make sure she’s actually naked. Her hair is done up in an actual elaborate coiff, making her look like she belongs in Blade Runner, bright blue, as are her shoes and her nails. Hank stands behind her, tall and lanky, wearing the aforementioned powder blue tuxedo. They look marvelous. And appalling. Marvelously appalling.

“At least you took my suggestion about the coif,” Charles mutters.

The drive to the mansion is the same as it always is, Raven sitting between Hank and Charles, calling them her best boys and ignoring Charles’ glare. She and Hank smoke a joint, waving it at Charles who then waves it off. He’ll save himself for the bar.

When they arrive at the mansion the great ballroom is already half full of guests, and Raven grabs Hank’s hand and pulls him away to see her old room, telling him that Charles gave her some great tips for giving blow jobs. Charles protests mightily, both Raven’s lie and her abandonment of him in favor of illicit sex in her childhood bedroom, then he turns and heads for the bar. In his head he starts the mental countdown that will end when Sharon finds him and starts dragging him around for her annual tour of shame, her son the nurse who should have been a doctor.

Charles asks for a gin and tonic then smiles at the bar tender, thinking he’s actually rather cute and he’s blond and tan and smiling back, and maybe HE wants to see CHARLES’ childhood bedroom, when someone slides up next to him, just a little too close, and as much as Charles wants to turn and tell whoever it is to give him some space, he just wriggles uncomfortably and tries to lean away, because it’s probably one of Sharon’s obnoxious country club friends, and Charles doesn’t want to deal with them just yet. Then he freezes, because whoever has crowded next to him leans down and there his warm breath on his ear and he says in a low, rumbling, familiar, slightly accented voice that, holy shit, goes straight to Charles’ cock.

“I would pay money to see you shake that ass of yours again.”

oh. my. god.

“CHARLES!” a voice trills from across the room right at the same time.

Mother.

Charles turns to see that the person who decided to invade his personal space is indeed the same man he’d provided a cheeky ass shake just a couple days ago, one Dr. Erik Lehnsherr and he smiles a wan, sick smile that says, ‘how crazy to see you HERE of all places, um, what the FUCK, and thank god we didn't fuck in the train bathroom because that would be even more awkward’, just as Sharon, high ball in hand, and surely not her first of the evening, loops her arm through the crook of his elbow and pulls him towards her.

“I see you’ve met Erik. Dr. Erik Lehnsherr. He’s the Xavier Fellow this year!”

Charles is stunned as Erik reaches out and takes his hand for the second time, his grip just as warm and firm as before. His fingers quickly stroking the skin on the inside of Charles’ wrist, causing things to tilt just every so slightly and Erik smiles mischievously as Charles flinches at the contact.

“Nice to meet you, Charles,” Erik says slyly, grinning.

Charles can’t say anything back. He appears to have lost all ability to speak.

TBC


	2. The Soiree

Erik is apparently an ass man, because he spends the next forty five minutes being dragged around the room by Sharon while simultaneously making side comments to Charles about his ass, such as how lovely it looks in a tuxedo. Charles spends the whole time gripping his gin and tonic and wondering what he’s done to deserve this special version of hell.

Sharon introduces them to friend after friend, and through this Charles learns more and more about Erik. He is a brilliant doctor. A specialist in pain management. He comes to them from Germany by way of France. He’s lived all over Europe. This will be his first position in the states. Isn’t his accent delightful. They are so lucky he accepted the Xavier Fellowship.

Charles also bears the burden of Sharon’s backhanded criticisms. While Erik is brilliant and accomplished, Sharon introduces Charles over and over as just a nurse, and about the tenth time this happens, and just when Charles’ eyes are starting to feel strain from rolling, Erik interrupts her in a polite yet firm manner.

“Charles is far from just a nurse, Sharon.” Erik says smoothly, and Sharon’s face lights up as he infuses her with his European charm. “Let me tell you what happened the other day.”

Charles’ eyes grow wide because he knows that until a couple days ago, he’d never met Erik Lehnsherr in his life, let alone worked with him. He’d only glanced at him across the ER a couple times and heard the girls in the break room gossiping about the cute new doctor. What in the FUCK was Erik talking about?

Erik starts to tell a story about Charles that involves a kid who was brought into the emergency room, a young kid, maybe only 16 years old. Charles moves behind his mother where he knows only Erik can see him and starts to mouth words like “what-are-you-doing” and “shut-the-fuck-up”, but Erik only glances at him and ignores him.

“He’s been down for about an hour already and the paramedics have been working to keep him going.”

Charles stops mouthing his protest. This story. It’s a true story, except Erik wasn’t there. It happened last year. If Erik knows about it, it means he’s been asking around. If he’s been asking around, it had to be before the train, because he wasn’t at the hospital today. If he’s been asking around….

“This kids going to be brain dead. Sixteen and brain-dead, and Charles is the one who runs the trauma code, and you should have been in the room. It was quiet, everyone doing their jobs, Charles was on top of everything. Getting the drugs ready, checking his pulse, keeping someone on his chest at all times.”

Charles looks around at the people who are standing and listening to Erik’s story. They are mesmerized, and the person who looks the most amazed is Sharon. A feeling of gratitude wells up in Charles.

“They got the kid intubated and to the ICU and they got him back, but the outcome might have been different if someone else had been running that code.” Erik finishes, “Sixteen years old, down for almost two hours, and he had no brain damage, no deficits. So, Sharon, pardon me when I disagree with you. Charles is more than just a nurse. He’s does a hard job and he’s one of the best at the hospital.”

Everyone looks amazed at Erik’s story, and for the rest of the night Charles is spared his mother’s derision, and all because of Erik. He glances over at the taller man and flashes him a small, grateful smile.

“Thank you,” Charles says when they are finally set free from Sharon’s grasp and are alone again. He puts his arm on Erik’s and squeezes.

“Thank your friend Angel,” Erik says. “She’s the one who told me the story.”

"Angel, huh?" Charles decides he might kill Angel for ratting him out to Erik, and for sure the next time he’s charge, she’s getting a massive dump of an assignment for her transgressions.

“So,” says Erik, “are you going to change your mind now?”

Charles blinks. “Change my mind about what?”

“Dating doctors. I mean, I’m a fellow and you did say that you don’t date interns. And I’m a pain specialist. I mean, I’m never going to deny you your oxycodone. Never, ever.”

Charles rolls his eyes.

“A rule is a rule, Dr. Lehnsherr.” he says, leaning into Erik a little then smiling up at the taller man, and despite his words, he’s flirtatious. Dangerous, Charles. This is dangerous. “I don’t date doctors.”

“You just shake your ass at them.”

“I lost control.”

“I like that.”

“Oh, good grief, do you ever give up?”

Charles likes this. More than he should, because this is going to lead nowhere. There’s a reason he doesn’t date doctors.

“So,” Erik says, changing the subject, “does your mother know you’re queer?”

Charles gazes over at Sharon, who is engaged in conversation with a senator and a entrepreneur, and the way she’s swaying a little tells him she might be dancing on the table by the end of the evening.

“She does,” Charles says. “I asked her to buy me Ewan McGregor and Jonathan Rhys Myers for my birthday when I was thirteen so I could watch them make out. You know, Velvet Goldmine. Hot.” Erik raises an eyebrow and Charles thinks that rich kids might have some odd birthday present requests at times, “Sharon is well aware of the landscape.”

“So she wouldn’t mind if I dated you?” Erik asks.

“Oh no, she’d be entirely thrilled.”

Sharon was one of the reasons for the disastrous Summer of Scott. Scott Summers came from a good family and he was successful doctor in Hamptons, handsome and charming, amazing in bed. Sharon had briefly forgiven Charles for becoming a nurse because it appeared that he would at least marry well, and a doctor at that, and Charles had been thrilled to be dating such a handsome man and to finally have his mother’s approval. Raven had hated him, glaring at him during parties, telling Charles Scott was an obvious douche and he could do so much better. When they broke up, Sharon took it just as hard as Charles. Maybe harder. And that was when Charles extended his determination not to date doctors from the boundaries of his hospital to the entire universe.

“Except, I don’t date doctors,” Charles reminded Erik, “so Sharon will have to survive our lack of dating.” Erik smiles at this.

At this moment, Raven returns, looking decidedly un-coifed with Hank trailing behind her, buttoning up the collar of his tuxedo and looking a bit debauched. Raven bounds up to Charles, about to say something, most likely something crude, when she notices Erik and stops herself. Sort of.

“Yummy,” she says, looking Erik up and down. Charles sighs. Erik seems to take it all in stride.

“My sister,” he says apologetically. “Raven, this is Dr. Erik Lehnsherr. Erik, this is Raven and her boyfriend Hank.”

Erik puts his hand out and Raven accepts it and appears to be almost swooning. Oh good grief, his sister is never short of dramatics. Charles wants to hide. He really wants another drink. He is torn between leaving Erik in the clutches of his crazy sister to fend for himself and trying to get another gin and tonic so he can keep heading towards comfortably numb.

No Xavier soiree is complete without some music and just then a group of musicians walk onto the stage at one end of the room and sit down, picking up instruments, and start to play big band. Raven grins, let’s go of Erik and grabs Hank, dragging him towards the dance floor. This is Charles signal, and now that Erik is no longer in mortal danger, Charles can slip off to the bar and grab another drink. He leaves the group and winds his way through the crowd.

It’s like Erik has Charles on GPS, because moments later he’s by his side again, talking like they’d never stopped their previous conversation.

“So, if Sharon is aware of the landscape...” Erik says, looking Charles up and down in the same lascivious manner Raven had just done to him. Charles can feel heat rising up his cheeks, and Erik’s confidence is so damn sexy he can barely breathe, and lordy, he wished he was a plumber or a barista, or anything else but a doctor who is working in Charles hospital. If he was any other profession, Charles probably would jump him and scandalize the entire room by stripping Erik naked and sucking him off right there at the bar.

It’s clear Erik is having some of the same feelings because his voice as trailed off as he looks down at Charles. He clears his throat, a choked sound, and then starts again, “So, if Sharon is aware of the landscape, would it be okay if you dance with me?”

Good god, it would be a disaster, Charles thinks to himself. An utter disaster, unless he could convince his mother that it was the alcohol that caused her to see her son dancing with the tall, handsome doctor from Germany, but Sharon was much smarter than that. Still, Erik’s hand is touching lightly on the small of Charles’ back and the heat there felt like it was leaving an imprint, and he had sworn to never date a doctor again, but had he sworn to never dance with one? Semantics, Xavier.

“I...I think it would be okay,” Charles says quietly, instantly filled with regret, but still not willing to stop the cascade of events that has started. Erik’s hand presses on the small of his back and he guides Charles through the crowd with skill and grace, and then they are on the dance floor and Charles is leaning into Erik, wrapping his arms around his neck, inhaling deeply, and what the FUCK is he doing? He is walking right up to the edge with this man.

“So, you won’t let me date you?” Erik murmurs.

“You just don’t take no for an answer, do you,” Charles says, swaying with Erik, “I’m firm about this, Dr. Lehnsherr.”

“Would you let me fuck you,”

Charles lets out and audible huff at Erik’s question and he thinks about how delightful it would be to drag Erik up to his old bedroom right now and let the man spread him wide, and it causes his breath to sharply intake and he looks away, because yes, he would let Erik fuck him. He would let him fuck him from now to Sunday, until he could barely walk, and it would be amazing. Except Charles is going to say “no” to this request too, and he doesn’t really know why. He doesn’t want Erik to only be tonight, which is ridiculous, because if they play by Charles’ rules, that’s all they really can be.

“No, I would not let you fuck me,” Charles says, hoping the tightness in his voice doesn’t betray him.

“You are a mystery, Charles Xavier, but I like a mystery.”

“You’re determined, Dr. Lehnsherr,” Charles answers back, daring to look up into Erik’s face, smiling a little.

“We Lehnsherrs are known for our determination, our single mindedness to the point of obsession. I can’t help that. Maybe it will be enough to break down your boundaries.”

“Maybe,” Charles intones, still skirting along the edge of temptation, unable to help himself. “Maybe not.”

The music changes and the new song is uptempo, and Charles and Erik break apart. Charles looks around to find Sharon and dreads discovering that she’s been watching her son and her latest Xavier Fellowship pet smushed together on the dance floor, but she’s moved onto some Countess from some Eastern European country and appears to not have given the dance floor a second thought.

Raven bounces up to them again and says she and Hank are going to smoke another joint outside, and Charles says they can probably head home soon. They’ve met their annual obligation, and it hasn’t been half bad this year. Way better than half bad. He turns to Erik and puts out his hand.

“It’s been really great,” Charles says genuinely. “Thanks for making a usually tough night much more enjoyable. I’ll see you around,” Erik is echoing that he’ll see Charles around when Sharon comes up, highball still in hand, and drapes her arm around Erik’s shoulders.

“Charles, darling, why don’t you give Erik a ride in the car back to the city?”

Charles’ eyes narrow because he thinks his mother isn’t nearly tipsy as she’s acting and he suspects that she’d seen more of their dance floor shenanigans than he thought. She’s up to something. He’s about to say that Erik surely wants to stick around and mingle more when Raven and Hank come stumbling and giggling in from outside and Raven sidles up to the side of Erik that isn’t occupied by Sharon, and says loudly,

“What a GREAT idea, Sharon. I am SO hungry.”

“Raven,” Sharon says, glaring at her daughter, “can you keep your marijuana away from my parties?”

“Sorry, mommy dearest.”

Sharon huffs a little then says good night to Erik and tells him she’s sure the ride will be eventful, glares at Raven then weaves her way back into the crowded party.

“Ding, dong, the witch is dead,” Raven sing-songs.

“My sister is doubly obnoxious when drunk and stoned,” Charles apologizes.

“Hank!” Raven says urgently, teetering on her blue heels, “get us drinks for the ride!” Hank takes his hand that’s been steadying Raven off her waist and she almost tips into Erik.

“Really, Charles, he’s so yummy.”

“RAVEN!”

Erik laughs at both of them.

“I would like a ride,” Eriks says, smiling.

The ride home isn’t as entertaining as Sharon promised because once Raven no longer is trying to antagonize their mother, she collapses against Hank, mumbling something about being tired. Charles watches as Hank looks down at Raven, his hand with its blue-painted fingernails softly stroking her hair, and Charles thinks that Hank really loves his nut job of a sister, and the time might be coming for Raven to be more about Hank and less about Charles and all his problems. It’s a natural progression but it makes Charles sad.

“They’re kind of cute,” Erik remarks, looking over at Charles, who is smushed against him in the back of the town car that wasn’t truly built for four people. Charles likes how strong Erik feels against him, then he banishes the thought. He has rules. He has boundaries. He’s not going to sacrifice them for this lovely warm man next to him who smells incredibly good. He will not.

Charles drops his head onto Erik’s shoulder.

“So,” Erik says as the car speeds along the freeway. “If we play by your rules we can’t date, and we can’t fuck, but I like you, so where does that leave us?”

Charles shrugs. It’s a reasonable question. This has been one of the best nights he’s had since the Summer of Scott disaster left Charles heartbroken. It’s not like he hadn’t seen people since Scott, but they were just hook-ups or awful, awkward dates, and he hadn’t had as much fun with anyone until Erik. He should tell Erik it leaves them with nothing, but, dammit, he doesn’t want to, so he tells him something entirely, incredibly stupid. It’s the same stupid urge that led him to shake his ass at the man as he got off the train. It seems that Charles Xavier really wants is to flirt with danger.

“We can be friends.” Charles offers. Friends. Watch football. Drink beers. Talk about their respective dates. Um, no. Maybe just football and beers. Charles hates football.

“Friends,” Erik muses. “I think I can do that.”

TBC


	3. Raven's Art Opening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is terrible. Charles is mostly in denial. Raven and Hank are awesome and should get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the comments and kudos. I'm so enjoying writing this.

Charles has a few days off post-soirée, which is much needed because between work and Sharon, he feels wrung out. He spends those days doing what he usually does to recoup. He reads, goes for a long run, letting his mind drift as his feet pound the pavement. He thinks about Erik. Okay, that isn't quite part of his normal routine, and why does he have to be crushing so hard on someone he's decided is unavailable?

Raven and Hank come over, because if Raven goes more than a couple days without seeing Charles she goes into withdrawal. She and Hank crash on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. Charles slouches in his favorite overstuffed chair and listens as Hank outlines his latest research and thinks that Raven has found herself a very affable geek, with VERY big feet. They are sans shoes and hanging over the edge of his couch in all their glory, blue toenails and all. He reminds himself to remark on this to Raven later when they're alone. You know what they say about big feet, and he wonders if this violates his rule that they NEVER discuss her sex life.

Hank is launching into something about genetic mutations when Raven sighs heavily and interrupts her boyfriend's meanderings.

"You ARE coming to my opening, right?" Raven says, her gaze falling on Charles, filled with consternation, and Charles isn't quite sure what he's done to deserve this from his sister. 

"Have I ever missed one?" he asks, knowing the answer. 

Raven hurumphs a little. The answer is a resounding no. Charles is always there, and then Raven reveals the root of her sudden worry that her brother will abandon her, and fuck their mother for the way she treats her kids. 

"Sharon has a dog show or something so she'll miss it."

Charles sighs at this information. As expected, the universe has been set right after the big Xavier soiree and Sharon has gone back to her usual habit of ignoring her children. Raven faces the world with a lot of bravado and attitude but Charles knows this kind of thing hurts her more than she lets on. He hopes Hank knows too. Raven needs a bit more caretaking than she lets on. 

"Raven," Charles chides softly, "I wouldn't miss it for the world." She smiles at his words and for a moment he sees the younger, more vulnerable version of Raven that he grew up with. The version that can be too easily hurt. 

"So," she says, shaking off the moment and returning to her favorite hobby of harassing her brother, "are you going to bring a date?"

"Raven! You know I don't date."

Raven frowns and Charles pretty much predicts what comes out of her mouth next, "I hate that douche Summers and what he did to you."

It's not all Scott's fault. It's not like Charles couldn't make the decision to jump back into the dating pool. It's just so disappointing out there and so hard to find someone and he'd been so happy that Scott was going to be forever. Sometimes Charles thinks he wanted someone to be with more than he actually wanted Scott specifically. When he wasn't forever the heartbreak was unbearable. He just doesn’t want to go through that again. It’s easier not to date. 

"It's been almost a year and a half."

"I know."

"What about Dr. Yummy Pants? I saw him looking at your ass like he's would have liked to eat some of Sharon's fancy appetizers off it."

Charles rolls his eyes. For christ sake, could that man broadcast his interest any louder. Erik Lehnsherr is anything but subtle. 

"He's a doctor, Raven. If I was going to date, you know I don't date doctors."

"Arghhhhhhh!" Raven huffs, throwing herself back against Hank's chest. "You are impossible.” She looks up at Hank and smiles, saying, “I’m done here, love. Let’s go home for some Hanky panky,” which results in Hank immediately blushing deeply scarlett and Charles rolling his eyes. Between Erik and Raven Charles feels like he's stuck between two unstoppable forces. 

“You need to reel your sister in,” Hank tells Charles, looking a bit mortified. You need to marry her, Charles thinks. 

Charles decides that being “friends” is Erik-speak for stealth-dating him, because when he gets out of report on his first day back, Erik is waiting for him with coffee in hand. Charles thinks he really should chastise the other man, but instead he takes the cup and smiles gratefully. It really is nice of him. 

"Did you have good days off?" Erik asks, falling in stride with Charles as he heads to see his first patient. "I know I missed seeing you, although your ass has provided me with much wanking material." 

Forgodsake, what the hell? Charles almost spits out his coffee. That is NOT something friends say to each other. He glares at Erik who looks highly amused at the effect his words have had. 

"Don't you have patients to see? Interns to intimidate? Surely hanging out with me in the ER is not part of your job description."

"Actually," Erik murmurs. Charles rolls his eyes because this situation reeks of Sharon and moments later Erik is showing Charles an email from Mother Dearest that suggests Charles could show Erik around the emergency department. He makes a mental note to remind his mother that she does not own the hospital, and she cannot volunteer him as a tour guide and she needs to go to her dog show and butt out of his personal life. 

Charles keep walking down the long hallway to the area he’s been assigned, Erik still by his side, Charles trying to be as gruff and surly as possible.

“I really should buy you breakfast,” Erik finally says, tossing his now empty coffee cup into a nearby garbage can. “you can’t run on coffee alone.”

“I had breakfast already,” Charles grumps, trying to ignore that Erik even smells good in scrubs. No one should smell that good while wearing scrubs. 

“Well, since you ate already I can make you breakfast at my place some other morning.”

Charles stops in the hallway and turns, looking Erik squarely in the face. Erik looks back, holding back laughter, perpetually amused at how bothered he can make Charles.

“Friends, Erik. FRIENDS. You know, football, beer. Friends.”

Erik looks at him blankly, “what does football have to do with any of this? And if you know a place that has good German beer, I’ll be glad to take you out and get you drunk and see if you still want to be friends.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair in an exasperated manner and starts muttering to himself. What has he done to deserve the attention most annoying, persistent, focused and god damn sexy man in the universe. Charles wishes he didn’t like this man so much because he really should put a stop to all of this and he knows he won’t. 

“Go away,” Charles says. “Go write orders, or whatever it is that pain doctors do. I know that you are causing me a hell of a lot of pain.”

“I hope only the good kind. But if you need some help alleviating your pain, I have some non-pharm ideas...”

He never stops. 

Charles ignores Erik and stalks off. 

The rest of his shift goes by in a blur, patient after patient, and it’s one of those days when he’s not sure if he’s going to get it all done by the end of his shift, but he does, and ends up slumped on the train, too tired to even read. This means his mind is left unoccupied and wide open to thoughts of Erik. Delicious, lean, handsome Erik, christened Dr. Yummy Pants by Raven, and he does look yummy, even in scrubs. Charles thinks no matter what rules he’s placed on himself, he’s entirely screwed. 

He works two more shifts. Each day he’s greeted by Erik and coffee. Angel raises a suggestive eyebrow at Charles. He tells her they’re just friends. She rolls her eyes and says, "bullshit", and something else in Spanish. Charles chooses to ignore her. Ignoring people seems to be his best defense these days. 

Saturday is Raven’s opening and Charles finds that he doesn’t really want to go, but him being there means the world to Raven, so he’ll get dressed up and spend time talking with her artists friends and try his best to pretend he cares about what they’re talking about. It’s hard for him to make light conversation because his own work is dirty and ugly and it makes so much else in life seem trivial. He’s much happier being alone, or hanging out with his coworkers. Charles sleeps in that day, then goes for a run, then gets dressed, putting on a plain white t-shirt and jeans. The gallery is downtown, so Charles throws on his wool coat and scarf and heads for the train. 

The party is in full-swing by the time he arrives, the lofty, light filled space filled with people dressed in black and making small talk over plates of catered mini quiche and bruschetta. They balance glasses of wine in their fingers and talk about the latest show they’ve seen or how much they love or hate so-and-so’s recent work. The room is warm even though it’s cold outside, heated by the sheer number of bodies packed into it. 

Charles is proud of his sister. She’s made it far in the art world for someone so young, and even though he likes to tease her about living off the Xavier fortune, he knows that she has some crazy talent. Charles walks through the gallery, weaving his way around people, crooking his neck to get a look at Raven’s sculptures, although he’s already seen all of them, in all their various stages on their way to being display worthy. Finally he spots Raven, holding court in a corner of the room, Hank towering by her side, an arm slung across her shoulders, and Charles smiles because it appears that Hank has dyed his hair blue to match Raven’s. If they do get married, Charles is sure it’s not going to be white wedding, and he’s not sure if they could be any cuter. 

Raven sees him and stops talking, waving her hand and gesturing for him to come join her. Charles makes his way through the crowd to where she is standing. 

“This is my brother!” Raven exclaims. “My inspiration.”

“Ha,” Charles snorts. His sister is so funny. 

Raven breaks away from her adoring audience, Hank trailing behind her, and hooks her arm through his, “There’s someone here who wants to meet you,” she says, dragging him towards the other side of the room.

Charles sighs, “this had better not be some sort of fix-up scheme, because I told you that I’m not…”

Charles’ voice trails off when he sees who she’s dragged him to meet. He’s standing in front of one of Raven’s sculptures, staring at it quizzically, and Charles can’t help but smile because he might possibly share the same sentiment. It’s Dr. Yummy Pants himself, the endlessly exasperating Erik Lehnsherr. 

“RAVEN!” Charles hisses, “what have you done?”

“He just showed up.” Raven says, her eyes wide, faking innocence. If by ‘just showed up’ she really means that she got his number from mother then texted him and suggested he might want to come see her art opening and spend the evening with Charles, then it seems Erik has indeed 'just shown up'.

“Charles!” Erik says as he turns and sees him, and he’s smiling and sounds genuinely pleased. Charles wants to shrink down into nothing. He’s walked right into a trap, and Raven knows he won’t tell Erik to sod off, he’ll spend the evening with him. 

“It’s nice for you to have a friend here.” Raven says, patting Charles’ arm. Raven, who usually is obnoxiously ever-present in Charles’ life, seems to suddenly dissipate into thin air, leaving Charles and Erik standing in front of each other, neither saying a word. 

“Well,” Erik finally says, “You’re sister is rather clever.”

“She’s a giant pain in my ass,” Charles spits out, still mad that Raven knows his rules and she set him up on a date anyway, and it can’t even be a date in the first place, because they are just friends. And they’re not even very good at being friends anyway, so what the fuck they doing here?

“She does, um, interesting work.”

Charles smiles and relaxes a little, “don’t worry, most of the time I don’t get what she’s doing, but people love it and she’ll probably sell a few pieces tonight. Everyone wants a Raven Darkholme piece these days.”

“Not Xavier?” Erik asks, noting Raven’s different last name. 

“She’s adopted, when she was six, so she came with a name already” Charles explains, “and I don’t think she likes all the hoopla that comes with the Xavier name, anyway. She’s happy just being herself.” It was the best explanation he could give for Raven. 

“I think I need a drink,” Erik says, smiling at Charles, showing a ton of teeth which makes him look a little creepy but mostly happy. Has seeing Charles made him this happy? This makes Charles’ heart skip a beat, “do you want some wine?”

“God, yes.” Charles says, his annoyance at the situation slipping away and right now he can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than walking around a snooty art gallery with Erik. Erik leaves him as Charles stares at another of Raven’s sculptures and returns with two glasses of wine, offering one to Charles. They sip their wine and walk around the gallery, making small talk until Erik turns to Charles and asks if he want to get out of there.

“God, yes.”

“Go get something to eat?” Erik asks. 

Dinner together is getting way too close to a date-like situation, but Charles isn’t sure if it matter at this point. The wine he’s been sipping on is going to his head and he could use some food, and he really enjoys being around Erik, so why not.

“I know a place. It's not far from here,” Charles says and Erik looks surprised that Charles is capitulating so readily, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods his head in agreement.

They say their goodbyes to Raven, who hugs them both at the same time, being a little drunk which always makes her over affectionate, and smiles, looking entirely too pleased with herself. 

They end up walking to La Spiga, and Charles doesn’t argue too much when Erik offers his arm, and what is he doing? Something about Erik makes Charles entirely unable to keep his distance like he should, and he presses himself against the other man's side. He tells Erik this is one of his favorite restaurants, that the food is amazing. He doesn’t tell him that he and Scott went there often. Charles doesn’t want to bring up Scott and his broken heart. He wants to be in this moment, with Erik, and to have nothing spoil it. 

Charles doesn’t end up getting his wish, because after he and Erik are seated and he’s watching Erik dip a piece of bread into a shallow dish of olive oil, admiring the other man’s square hands and long fingers, and letting his mind wander to what they might be able to do, Charles is interrupted by a familiar voice to his right. Charles closes his eyes and tries to pretend this isn’t happening. Please, let this not be happening. His chest clenches and his heart hurts, and why tonight of all nights did this have to happen. 

“Hello,Charles.”

He still can’t look, although he knows who it is, knows his voice, can feel the heat of his body radiating next to him. Erik is watching him from across the table, his eyes flickering from Charles’ face to the other man who is standing by the table, looking down at the both of them. Suddenly Erik reaches across the table and grabs hold of Charles’ hand, squeezing it hard, and Charles is grateful for his touch because it anchors him. 

“Darling,” Erik murmurs, and Charles’ eyes widen as he realizes what Erik is up to, clever, clever man, and he really could drag him across the table and kiss him for this, “can you introduce me to your friend?”

Charles takes a deep, shaking breath and finally looks up to see those eyes, that chiseled face, watching him, and there’s something there in the eyes that lock with his that looks strangely like jealous. 

Scott.

“Dr. Erik Lehnsherr,” Charles says, trying to keep his voice from shaking, holding onto Erik for dear life as the room seems to tilt around him, and he’s surprised he sounds so calm, “this is Dr. Scott Summers.”

"Nice to meet you," Erik says coolly, letting go of Charles' hand and extending it to Scott, who is looking slightly stunned. The two men face off, Charles stuck in between and Charles is pretty sure he would rather die at this point. Dead might be better than this. 

~TBC~


	4. The Restaurant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott is an idiot. Erik is awesome and protective. Charles needs some space.

Ohmygod, Scott. 

Charles can’t think. He can barely breathe. He hasn’t seen Scott since the night he proposed, complete with roses and a string quartet, and Scott hadn’t looked overwhelmed, or happy, or in love, or anything good. He’d just looked sad, and from the moment Charles went down on bended knee with that ring box in his hand, he knew this was not going to end well. He had felt like such a fool, such a colossal idiot, as Scott cleared his throat and told Charles they didn’t want the same things. What had he missed? How could Charles have been so wrong?

Scott, who is now standing next to the table where Charles and Erik are sitting, staring down at their joined hands, and Erik has intertwined his fingers with Charles’, holding him tightly. Scott is still staring, speechless, and he actually has the audacity, after all he’s done, to look jealous. Charles wants to hit him, but Charles is a man of peace. Still, if Scott continues to look annoyingly possessive when he was the one who had walked away, peace may no longer be an option. 

There are so many things Charles wants to say to Scott. He wants to tell him that he has no right to stand there looking like Charles belongs to him, that he gave that up when he said they should just be friends. Instead he remains silent, looking up at Scott, because if he says something, he’s not sure if words will come out or if he’ll just start sobbing. 

Erik just looks like he'd like to punch Scott. He’s practically bristling and his eyes are sparking with anger, and he's gripping Charles firmly enough to almost hurt, but Charles is so grateful because it's the only thing that keeps him from falling apart. 

What possesed Charles to bring Erik here, of all places. It had been his and Scott's place, and they'd had countless long late night dinners here. He's not sure why he thought it would be okay to return except that maybe he thought that it was too painful for Scott too, so there would be no chance of them running into each other. It seems that while Scott had given up Charles, he had not given up La Spiga. Somehow this angers Charles as well.

"Scott, eh? Hmmmmm," Erik muses slowly, breaking the silence, sounding confused as he looks up at the other man, who is frowning and looking a bit like he's constipated. Give Erik an Oscar now, because he's entirely convincing when he adds a smooth, "you've never mentioned him before, love," as he turns his face to Charles. 

"An old friend," Charles manages to stutter, feeling hot and uncomfortable, and please let this be over. 

"Well, Dr. Summers," Erik intones slyly, "you must have not been worth mentioning because it's been six months and Charles has never said a single thing about you." 

Erik is a dirty fucking liar. A beautiful, magnificent, handsome, dirty fucking liar. Charles can’t help the smile that starts to form around the edges of his mouth. 

"I must have forgotten," Charles says, his voice growing stronger. He smiles at Erik and while their story is confabulated, his smile is not. Charles’ smile is pure gratitude. 

"I see," Scott says slowly, looking disappointed and sounding a little hurt. It would have been nice if Scott had cared this much a year and a half ago, but that moment has passed. There might have been a time when Scott giving a shit that Charles was having dinner with another man, was holding hands with another man, would have thrilled him, but now it just makes him feel angry that all of this is coming too late, and only when Scott thinks Charles is unobtainable. “It was nice to see you, Charles,” his ex-lover says somewhat insincerely, then Scott turns and walks away and it’s over. After a year and a half, he and Scott are finally over. 

Charles exhales heavily, and he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, and suddenly he’s exhausted at a such a deep level he’s surprised he can even stay sitting up. Erik squeezes Charles’ hand then moves to release him, but Charles holds on tighter, not allowing him to let him go. He needs this right now, needs his touch. He’s trembling and he feels like he’s on the edge of falling apart, and those fingers, that hand on his, are what is keeping him together. Charles looks at Erik, his eyes shining with tears for everything he’s gone through and everything he’s lost, and Erik’s face has no trace of it’s usual humor and teasing. He is looking at Charles with deep compassion, and warmth and something else, and Charles feels his chest clench. 

They stay like that, Erik gripping Charles’ hand, eyes locked together, and to an outside observer they might have looked like two people entirely lost in each other. Charles is indeed lost. He’s shaken to his core and he wishes that time could heal, but seeing Scott has brought back the pain and it’s as fresh as it was the day Scott told him it was over. 

“So,” Erik says after what seems like forever of not talking, “that’s why you don’t date doctors.”

Charles chokes out a sound that’s half a laugh and half a sob, and he nods, his cheeks feeling wet. Goddammit. He wishes Scott didn’t still affect him this way. 

“I wanted to marry him,” Charles says quietly. 

“Oh Charles,” Erik says softly, his voice gentle and caring, “you don’t need to tell me. We can save this for another time, or we can never talk about it again.”

“No,” Charles manages to choke out, I want to tell you. I want you to know.”

He wants Erik to know why seeing Scott has ripped him apart. He wants him to know why he keeps his walls up and doesn’t let people in. For some reason he wants this man to know everything. Maybe if he can finally tell him, he can also manage to let Scott go. 

“I’ve been in love before,” Charles starts, “at least I thought so, until I met Scott. He was perfect and handsome and charming, and I fell hard for him. We dated for five months then I asked him to marry me and he said no.”

It’s the short version, but even the short version hurts. The long version would devastate him, so he keeps that story to himself. He can’t tell Erik about the long, hot nights that summer, how he gave himself, body and soul, to Scott, how he’d promised him over and over that he was his forever, never noticing that Scott didn’t say it back. He feels stupid and taken advantage of. 

“I was such an idiot,” Charles says, more to himself than to Erik. “How could I have missed that he wasn’t on the same page. I was ready for the rest of our lives and he was having a summer fling.”

“You, Charles Xavier,” Erik says firmly, still holding Charles’ hand in his, “are not an idiot. It’s not idiotic to love someone and to put your heart on the line. It’s brave. Scott Summers, and his perfect face that I want to punch, is the idiot. He couldn’t see how amazing you are. And now it’s his loss.”

Charles blinks, his eyelashes wet, then he smiles. 

“Thank you, Erik.” Charles says softly. “You wanting to punch Scott is the best thing anyone has ever said to me."

It's the truth. 

After seeing Scott neither Charles nor Erik is hungry. They ask the wait person to pack up their dinner then they leave La Spiga and walk slowly back to the train, very close to each other but not touching. Erik seems lost in thought and Charles can’t stop feeling sad for all he's lost, and he realizes he's never allowed himself to mourn. He just shut down after Scott and built up protective walls, but he never had a chance to admit how much of his hopes and dreams he had let go along with Scott. Now that it’s been let loose, he can’t shake his melancholy. 

They reach the train platform and Charles turns to say goodbye to Erik, and apologize for turning what should have been a fun night into a melancholy, epic festival of self pity, but as the words 'I'm sorry,' start to emerge from his mouth, Erik puts a gloved finger up to Charles' lips and stops him. It’s too bad, because under any other circumstances, Charles would have taken that finger into his mouth and sucked on it in the most debauched way, but instead he just lets it linger on his lips for a brief second, a single, fluttering touch. 

"No." Erik says softly, knowing what Charles is about to say, "no apologies. This was the best night I've had with anyone in a long time. Hand’s down. You’re not allowed to ruin it by telling me you’re sorry. I’m not."

Charles lets a small, wry laugh escape. Why would watching him have a massive breakdown in public be anyone’s idea of a good night. Why isn’t Erik running away from Charles and all his crazy. The only explanation is that Erik himself is crazy as well. 

"I'm serious Charles,” Erik says forcefully, “I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be right now, and I'm so glad I was there, and I am sorry you had to go through it, but you weren’t alone, and I’m...I'm just glad I was there."

How is it possible for this man to be standing here in front of him saying exactly what he needs to hear? Charles squeezes his eyes tightly before more tears start flowing. He has so many things he wants to say on return, but the only thing he can manage to squeak out is, "my train".

"Our train," Erik corrects, "remember, I live this way too."

Charles smiles. He remembers. The man on the train. Erik. His Erik. Where the fuck did that come from? 

They find seats next to each other and Charles allows himself to burrow into Erik's side, let's his head fall into the other mans broad shoulder, and Erik's arm comes around him and pulls him close, and Charles is okay with this because the alternative is Erik being too far away from him, and he hates that idea. They are quiet as the moonlit landscape flashes by. 

"I still think not dating doctors is a silly rule. He’s just one person." Erik says quietly, almost in Charles’ ear. 

"Hmmmm," Charles murmurs, feeling safe and comfortable and not wanting to talk about this any longer. Erik is silent again as the train rushes along. 

"I'm not like him, you know." Erik says a while later, jolting Charles from the trance-like state he has entered, drifting somewhere between wake and sleep.. Charles tips his head to look up at Erik with slightly unfocused eyes, and Erik is gazing down at him with a pleading look on his face and Charles knows what's coming next. Oh god. Please, Erik, Charles pleads silently, not now. He can’t do this now. 

"I know," Charles says softly. It's the truth. In a short period of time Erik has shown Charles more kindness and consideration than Scott ever did during their entire relationship. Erik is the polar opposite of Scott. 

"So, would you reconsider?" 

Charles closes his eyes and he feels physical pain at what he must do. He hates this more than anything, but he can’t let this go on. 

"I can't," Charles manages to grit out, "oh, Erik, I want to but I really can't." He opens his eyes to confirm what he suspected because Erik is looking at him in a dazed manner and his face is a mask of pain. Then Charles makes everything ten times worse. "And I need some space. I know how you feel about me, and I'm scared and I need time and space to figure things out."

Erik looks devastated and angry and Charles can feel his fists clench and unclench, like he wants to punch a wall, but he doesn't yell or argue or try to persuade Charles he should take a different course. He just looks at Charles, his mouth a thin line of control and says, 'okay'. Just like that, one simple word, and Charles feels relief flood through him. He had not been wrong about Erik, and Erik is right. He is not Scott. He’s not like anyone Charles has ever known. 

"Thank you." Charles says softly. He means it. He can’t thank this man enough for everything, and especially this; for letting him go. 

The train slows and it's Charles' stop, and as much as he wants to stay nestled next to   
Erik, he knows he can't. Charles stand up and looks down at Erik, who is frowning and looks so sad that Charles wants to take it all back. He doesn't. He just leans down and places a soft kiss on Erik's cheek, and the irony is not lost on him that their first kiss is a kiss goodbye.

~TBC~


	5. The Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> please note this trigger - this chapter contains an assault. 
> 
> Erik gives Charles what he's been asking for. Space. Charles has a bad day, which changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the medical details in this story are real. They are based on either experiences I've had or have heard from other medical professionals. Nursing has the second highest rate of workplace violence in the United States. Nurses face being assaulted on a regular basis. It takes an emotional and physical toll.

Everything falls apart the day that Charles almost gets clocked in the head.

It's been a week since their disastrous non-date and Erik has done everything Charles asked him to. Well, it's just the one thing but it feels like everything. Erik has left him alone. There is no Dr. Yummy Pants waiting for him outside report, coffee in hand. No Erik smelling too good for scrubs. No banter filled with sexual innuendos. 

Angel gives Charles a look after a couple of Erik-free days and asks him, "so did you and Dr. L break up?"

"We were never dating," Charles insists, glaring at Angel as she pulls out some morphine from the pixsys, the machine that dispenses all their medications.

"Yeah, right. By the way, green bed four needs a blood draw. CBC, chem 7, doc just put in the order.

Charles sighs. He was just about to go to lunch and now he has more to do. He'll have to grab supplies and head to the other end of the unit. Fuck. Charles presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, wanting to sit down more than anything, then he sighs and heads towards the supply room, his man-clogs squeaking their way down the hallway.

Charles has been working a lot since that night. It keeps his mind off things, and his house feels too empty. The ER is packed and he's been picking up OT, pulling doubles. This means no dinners with Raven, so she leaves her spanakopita on the fridge and texts him that she's worried about him. Hank texts that he misses Charles and it’s awkward, and kind of cute. Raven tells him on the phone that he can’t avoid Erik forever. Charles thinks he might prove her wrong.

It’s not like he doesn’t see Erik. His eyes are actually drawn to his tall figure like a magnet. Anytime he walks through the ER, Charles watches him. When he comes to the bedside for a consultation, Charles somehow walks by that particular resus. Sometimes Erik sits in the nurses station to place orders and Angel jabs Charles in the ribs and tells him to stop staring. Erik never meets his eyes. It’s like Charles is anyone else in the hospital.

All if this results in Charles being too tired and a little distracted, and looking back he’ll wonder if these things contributed to what happens next.

He pushes the curtain to green bed four to find a large man stretched out, asleep. Charles’ stomach is rumbling and he wants to get this done, so he walks up the the gurney and taps the man lightly on the shoulder. He’ll question this later too. Did he actually tap harder than he intended. If he’d been softer, would it have made a difference.

“Mr. Jones,” Charles says, and the man’s eyes fly open and he bolts upward. Charles jumps back and what happens next is all a blur.

The patient has an IV of something, normal saline or an antibiotic, but it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that the IV is hanging off a pole that is attached the gurney. Mr. Jones jumps off the gurney and Charles continues to step back, putting a hand out, and his entire body is tingling, his heart racing. In one swift motion, the patient pulls out his IV, turns, pulls the IV pole off the back of the gurney and swings it as hard as he can. Charles feels the air in front of him whoosh by as the IV pole, now a weapon, barely misses him. His mouth is dry and everything seems to be going in slow motion as he keeps scrambling backwards until he finds himself falling against the curtain, stopped by the gurney in the bay next to this one, which is luckily deserted. The patient raised the IV pole again and finally Charles finds his voice and he yells as loud as he possibly can.

“HELP! CALL A CODE GRAY!”

The patient is starting to swing again and Charles is trapped against the gurney and he can hear people shouting down the hallway to call a code gray, and there is the sound of footsteps running towards him, then Angel pokes her head into bed four and says loudly, “WHAT THE FUCK?!?!”

This startles the man with the IV pole and and he turns towards Angel, which allows Charles to push the curtain aside and scramble up and over the gurney and get the fuck away from the crazy man with the IV pole. The patient is now hitting everything he can see, swinging the pole into the wall and the fishbowl around the nurses station, and Charles can see people running into rooms and closing the doors or diving under desks. There is shouting down the hallway and more people running, and security is finally here, along with the nurses from psych, holding restraints in their hands. Someone is yelling for IM haldol and a state trooper has arrived and the patient continues to swing at anyone who gets close to him.

Through all this, Charles is crouched behind the gurney, and now that the shock is wearing off, he’s starting to shake.

“Charles!” Angel gasps, rushing to his side, “Are you okay, did you get hurt?” Charles shakes his head, ‘no’, but he still can’t stop shaking. He wants to, but his body is refusing to listen, and Charles tries to take some deep breathes, tries to calm his mind.

Not long after that, the patient is subdued, after about six security guards sit on him, and they somehow manage to get him onto a gurney and restrained, although he’s bucking at the restraints and spitting at anyone who gets near him. What the fuck. Most of the time Charles loves his job, but this is one of the times he could do without IV pole swinging lunatics, and Angel helps him up from his crouched position and escorts him to the break room, where he slouches in a chair, still shaking, but a little less now. She brings him a cup of water, and Charles give her a look of sheer gratitude, then sips is slowly as his body continues to calm down.

“Do you want me to call someone,” Angel asks. Charles shakes his head. Who would she call? This would freak Raven out too much. Sharon will just tell him he really should have taken that job in Westchester. There is no one to call.

“I think I just want to go home,” Charles says, and Angel says she’ll call the supervisor and tell her that they’ll need a float. Charles grabs her hand and squeezes. He needs to be away from all of this.

He takes a cab home, because there’s no way he can handle being alone with his thoughts on the train, not after a day like today, and when he finally reaches the door of his townhome, he can barely kick off his man-clogs, he trembling so hard. Charles climbs the stairs to the main level, strips off his scrubs, and pulls out a pair of comfortable sweat pants and a ratty t-shirt. He starts the hot kettle for some tea, then goes to sit on the couch in his living room, and he finally starts to feel safe.

Holy shit. What a day.

He’ll be okay by tomorrow, he tells himself. The shock won’t feel so novel, and most of this is probably just an adrenaline reaction, although he’s glad that he’s not scheduled to work tomorrow because he’d much rather be at home.

The kettle dings, and Charles gets up to pour hot water over the teabag he put in a mug on the counter when he hears pounding on the door downstairs. It’s probably Raven, and maybe Angel had called her after all, and the last thing Charles wants to have to make sure his sister doesn’t worry too much about him. He rubs his eyes and pads down the carpeted stairs to the door, pulls it open  with a trembling handand is about to tell Raven there’s nothing to worry about when he realizes that it’s not Raven standing on his doorstep.

It’s Erik.

Goddammit.

He’s standing there, arms hanging at his sides, and he looks pale and drawn, and he’s staring at Charles. Charles thinks he must have rushed out of somewhere, because he’s wearing his long white doctor’s coat that Charles knows he usually leaves in his office, and the pockets are bulging with folded notes and reference pocket guides. He’s breathing fast, chest rising up and down, as if he ran there. He looks, overall, a mess.

“Erik, I…” Charles starts, but before he can say anything more, Erik is stepping forward into the entryway hall, kicking the front door shut with his foot, and he’s pulling Charles into his arms, against his chest, holding him against him in a crushing hug. His lips are in his hair, and he’s saying something, over and over again,

“You’re okay.”

It’s too much for Charles, because the feel of Erik against him, being held in his arms, breaks something inside, and all of his walls crumble, and entirely unintentionally, Charles starts sobbing against Erik’s chest.

_He was so scared. He could have been killed. That IV pole was just centimeters from impacting his head, and it was so close. Too close._

The shaking is back and Charles can’t stop.

Erik pulls back and he looks at Charles face, then he leans down and captures Charles mouth in a kiss that is absolutely everything. Charles kisses him back, hard, desperate, wanting to feel something besides fear. _Please._ Erik pulls back, and Charles whines, because he doesn’t want this to stop. Not even for half a second, and he tries to lean in for another kiss, but Erik puts his hand on Charles’ chest and keeps him from reaching his goal.

“I was in a lecture,” he says, “I didn’t hear what had happened, then I got out and I hear some people talking that a patient had attacked a nurse. In the ER. I was so scared it was you. I ran to the ER and Angel told me it was you. Oh my god, Charles, you could have been hurt. You could have been killed. I may have never seen you again, and all I could think was that I needed to get here, to see if you were alright.

Charles will think later to ask exactly how Erik got his address, and he’ll tell him that Angel was more than helpful when he yelled that he needed to see Charles right away in a somewhat desperate manner. Right now though, Charles can’t think of anything but those lips and how they felt against his, and he dives forward, Erik unable to hold him back any longer despite their difference in size, and kisses Erik, open mouth and tongues, wet and sloppy, over and over, until Erik groans and pulls him tight against him and they are both hard and aching.

“Fuck me,” Charles says, between kisses, "I want you to fuck me. Fast and hard." Charles captures Erik’s mouth again,

“Yes,” Erik hisses, and he’s still kissing Erik as his fingers find the waistband of Charles’ sweatpants and starts to pull them down. Charles realizes that if they don’t manage to get up the stairs and into his bedroom, he’s going to let Erik fuck him with just spit and no lube, right here on the stairs going up to the kitchen,and he might regret that. Somehow he manages to communicate this to Erik, although it’s nothing flowery, and sounds a lot like a quick grunt of ‘lube, condoms, bedroom’.

They make it to the bedroom, although it’s slow going because Erik keeps pulling Charles back to kiss him, like kissing him is akin to the air that he needs to sustain life, and Charles doesn’t argue, because it feels so fucking good. In between kissing, Charles manages to pull off his shirt and shrug out of his sweatpants, and he’s just in his underwear, his cock jutting out, the front a little wet because he's leaking precum.

“You are gorgeous,” Erik murmurs as they finally stumble into the bedroom, and he’s actually not undressed, but it doesn’t matter, because Charles makes it to the nightstand, throws the lube and condoms at Erik, then he pulls off his underwear, spreads himself belly down on the bed, legs still on the floor, ass up, begging for it.

Erik pauses for a moment, and Charles turns his head, his cheek against the comforter, looking back towards Erik who in his frenzied state, has taken a quick break to stare at Charles’ ass. He’s an ass-man for sure. Erik reaches a hand out and kneads a cheek, almost reverently, and Charles moans a little and glares back at Erik, then he hears him murmur,

“Perfect.”

“For godsake, fuck me,” Charles spits out, not in the mood to tolerate Erik’s ass-worship, and he presses his face back down into the comforter, and gasps as he feels Erik start to circle his anus with a slicked-up finger, acquiescing to Charles demand to get this done and not linger, Charles is ready for this, so fucking ready. It’s not long before Erik presses a finger inside, circling in a strangely gentle motion considering how desperate this moment feels, then a second finger joins the first. Erik stretches him and scissors them, and Charles hisses at him to hurry, goddammit.

Erik pulls both fingers out, and although Charles knows he could take a third, he just wants to be fucked and fucked hard, so he pushes his ass back towards Erik and makes a little mewling, begging sound, and then he hears the crinkle of a condom being ripped open, and moments later he feels Erik’s cock pushing against him, and there is some pressure and then Erik is inside with a little pop.

“So perfect,” Erik moans, running his hands up Charles back, down his sides, but not moving his hips, and they are painfully still for a long moment, until Charles has had enough, and he rocks himself backwards, delighting in the way it makes Erik gasp. Big hands grip hard on his hips, and Erik’s hips start to rock back and forth, his cock sliding in and out, and Charles starts to feel the sparks build behind his eyes.

“Harder,” Charles gasps, and he wants to be pounded into the mattress, wants all of Erik’s weight on top of him, his hips grinding hard, making Charles feel something besides the fear that he doesn’t seem to be able to shake off. Charles crawls forward, reaching for his headboard, and Erik follows, pressing his weight against his back, and his hips are driving a hard, dirty rhythm, his face buried in the back of Charles’ neck, teeth nipping at the skin there.

Charles wants to come, and he’s not in a place to be a conscientious lover, so he pushes up his knees up a little jams his hand under his body, grabs his cock and wraps his hand around it. As Erik pumps hard into Charles, he pushes him forward, into his hand, but it’s rough, because, no lube, then Erik’s hand his there, and it’s slick and perfect, and it takes just a few pumps with both their hands and Charles is coming.

It feels so good, and everything he’s been holding inside explodes outward, and he lets go of it all. His orgasm is ripped out of him, and he’s heaving great sobs, torn from somewhere deep inside, his face wet with tears.

_He could of died._

Erik comes not long after Charles and his arms are letting go of Charles’ shoulders and are coming around his chest to pull him against him tightly, his whole body shuddering, and Charles hears him say, over and over again,

“I could have lost you.”

Charles is shaking again, and the fear is starting to creep back, and Erik pulls out, takes off the condom, tossing it towards the waste basket. He rolls Charles over then holds him tightly, as if he’s afraid he’s going to disappear, and Charles realizes that Erik is still wearing his scrubs, the pants tangled around his ankles, so Charles pushes his hands under Erik's scrub top, seeking his warmth, wanting to feel bare skin under his fingertips, and he somehow manages to whisper, ‘please’. Erik knows what he’s asking so he pulls back and pulls off the top and kicks off his pants, then he’s back, crawling next to Charles, delightfully naked, his skin hot and sticky. They cling to each other, and Charles thinks briefly that they are a total mess...a shaking, terrified mess. Erik is kissing Charles on the lips, then the nose, then his cheek, then back to his lips, and strangely enough he’s laughing now, and slowly Charles feels himself relax.

“Charles, oh Charles.” Erik says, kissing away some of the tears that are still on Charles’ face. “You...you are so amazing.”

Charles wants to ask what this means, but he can’t. For once he doesn’t want to over think and analyse the situation to death, and he knows he asked Erik to stay away, and he’s officially violated every single rule he’s set in place to keep himself safe and insulated from people who will break his heart. All of this is erased by the fact that Erik is holding him, practically crooning his ear, whispering down the column of his neck, telling him he’s wanted to do this from the moment he saw him across the emergency department on his first day at the hospital, and when he thought he might be hurt or even dead, his entire world froze, and Charles simply can’t think about what those words mean. He can’t.

They hold each other for a long time, and normally Charles would be plotting how to stretch this into an all night fuck-fest, but he can’t. He’s so tired that he can barely keep his eyes open, and somehow Erik manages to move them both from on top of the duvet to under it, and Charles nuzzles into the other man’s chest, murmuring something he’s not even able to understand, and his eyelids droop, and he sleeps. Dark, dreamless sleep.

His bedroom is filled with moonlight when Charles tosses himself awake, trying to shake the image of the man with the IV pole that has somehow invaded his dreams. He startles for a moment because he’s somehow forgotten he’s not alone, and Erik is sleeping rolled onto one hip next to him, his leg bent and taking up most of Charles’ king bed. Charles watches Erik for a moment, struck at how he can spread out so easily in someone else’s bed, and how he looks younger when he sleeps, his mouth open a little, his body relaxed. Charles knows this is bad. He knows he’s opening himself up to the kind of heartbreak he’d had from Scott, but in that single moment, he decides that he’s going to risk it. Even if this night is all he gets. He put too much onto Scott. He can see that now. All his hopes and dreams for the future, never noticing that wasn’t what Scott was offering back. He decides that this time he’s going to just take what Erik can give. Nothing more, nothing less. Erik has been offering himself to Charles from the moment they met, and Charles has refused him over and over. He’s not going to do that anymore.

Charles rolls out of bed and heads down the hallway. He grabs his sweats from where he left them on the floor where he’d left them then grabs his phone off the table by the kitchen doorway and he sees he has a text from Raven. He hasn’t told Raven what happened today. He needs to wait for the right time, because he knows it will scare her, and he needs to be ready to reassure her that he’s okay, and for that to happen, he needs to actually feel a little bit more okay than he does right now. Maybe tomorrow.

Charles heads into the kitchen, feeling deliciously sore, turns on the kettle for the tea he’d missed earlier, then leans against the counter, staring at his phone. The text says he needs to call her right away, but not to worry, it’s not an emergency, and she ends it by saying WAKE ME UP in call capital letters. Charles smiles. It’s not actually that late, not even midnight. Charles dials her number and Raven picks up quickly.

“Brother!” she exclaims, and she sounds happy.

“I’m calling you back,” Charles says, stifling a yawn. He’s still tired, weary from all the events of that day.

“I have news!” Raven chirps.

“Me too.”

“I’m getting married.”

“I fucked Erik.

“Oh, shit.” they say in unison.

~TBC~


	6. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik comes up with a solution to the problem of Charles not dating coworkers.

"You can be my maid of honor,"

"Really Raven,” Charles sighs, "I don't do drag. HANK does better drag than me."

It’s the next morning and Charles is chatting with Raven while putting some bread in the toaster. He hasn’t been up long, but he left Erik crashed out in his bed, having had to push Erik’s sleep-heavy arm off his waist in order to crawl out of it, and it turns out that Mr. Bed Hog turns into quite the cuddle slut when when he gets cold. He called Raven right away, who last night had made him promise he would call her as soon as he woke up, then told him to get back to his LOVAH, causing Charles to roll his eyes. He’s surprised he hasn’t sprained one of his eye muscles with the amount of eye-rolling Raven induces on a regular basis.

“I’m going to dye my hair red.”

“Mmmmm.”

“And wear black.”

“Okay,”

“What venue do you think will piss Sharon off the most.”

“RAVEN!” Charles barks, “are you getting married just to piss off mother?”

“Well, no.”

“Okay then, just pick out whatever you want.”

“Maybe the mansion, then,” Raven says, surprising Charles. He’s shocked that Raven would consider entering Sharon Xavier’s home territory for something as big as her wedding, because that would mean mother would insist on being involved, which might result in Worlld War III.

Charles holds the phone to his shoulder as he grabs his butter bell off the counter and pulls open a drawer to find a butter knife, because his toast is smelling almost done, and his stomach rumbles. Just at that moment, warm, strong arms circle his waist and lips press against the back of Charles’ neck, and he shivers. It seems Erik is awake.

“Good morning,” Erik says, his voice languid and still heavy with sleep. “Your bed is very comfortable, by the way.”

“Charles?” Raven says sharply.

“Mmm.” Charles answers, not sure if he’s talking to his sister or Erik. Erik is occupying himself by kissing his shoulder, soft, light kisses that seem to float across Charles’ skin.

“Are you listening?”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.” This time he’s definitely talking to Erik because Erik is sucking on his earlobe, and god, he’s always liked that.

“OH MY GOD, are you moaning? Is Dr. Yummy Pants doing something to you while you talk to your sister on the phone? Seriously? Clearly your rule about my sex life does not extend to your own. You are fired from being my maid of honor.”

Erik stops and looks at Charles, his face a little incredulous at what he thought he heard, “what did your sister just call me?”

“Um, you might have a nickname.” Charles says quickly, hoping that will be enough explanation and Erik can return his attentions to his earlobe.

“Yes?” Erik says, waiting, looking at Charles and NOT sucking on his earlobe. Charles frowns. Clearly he’s not going to be able to avoid this.

“And it might be…” Raven is yelling through the phone but her voice is muffled and barely audible because Charles is pressing his phone against his leg so she can’t be heard, “Dr. Yummy Pants.”

“Oh. My. God.” says Erik.

“Oh. My. God.” screeches Raven.

“I will call YOU later,” Charles says into his phone, then hangs up while his sister is still protesting. He turns to Erik and smiles.

“Good morning,” Erik says again, this time sounding more awake, which is unfortunate, because Charles liked the first version very much. “Did you sleep well.”

“As well as can be expected,” Charles says, and he sees a shadow cross Erik’s face, and quickly adds, “considering the situation, actually pretty good. Especially because you were there.”

Yes, especially because of that.

“Good,” Erik rumbles. “You don’t work today?”

“I’m not on the schedule, but my manager left a message yesterday saying they’ll take me off for the next couple days I’m supposed to work. I was going to say no, but now I think I might need a few more days.” so I can keep fucking your brains out, Charles adds silently, “What about you?”

Erik smiles, “I called in. Someone will cover my duties.”

It seems fucking each others brains out is officially on the agenda.

Erik putzes around the kitchen a bit and asks where he can find the coffee. He’s wearing is scrub bottoms and nothing else, and they ride low on his hips and look amazingly sexy. Charles cringes at the thought because he’s pretty sure sexy and scrubs should never go together. Erik also has actual crazy, sticking-up bed-head, which is totally hot. Actually, everything about him is delicious. Erik starts a pot of coffee and Charles throws his toast on a plate, and they both sit down at the kitchen table, across from each other.

“So, last night was okay?” Erik asks. Charles holds back a guffaw. Um, more than okay. Erik had basically fucked away Charles’ demons, then they had slept in each others arms all night, and it wasn’t typical for first time sex, but it was what he needed. Once again, Erik knows what he needs, and he gives freely and willingly.

“Yeah,” Charles says, because he knows that Erik isn’t just asking about his sexual performance. He’s asking about everything, from the fucking to the fact that Charles had just over a week ago asked for space and here they are eating breakfast together.

“And you’re okay.”

Charles nods. He actually is. The events from yesterday aren’t as sharp and the fear isn’t taking over, and he knows it’s going to be hard to walk into work for his first shift after almost being beaten by an IV pole wielding patient, but none of it feels like it’s going to swallow him up like it had yesterday.

“Well then,” Erik laughs, “I don’t know what we’re doing here, but just so you know, we haven’t violated your rules. We’re definitely not dating.”

Charles cocks an eyebrow at him and reminds Erik that he had also said he wouldn’t fuck him, and they definitely ARE fucking. Oh yeah, that, Erik shrugs. Silly details. Charles takes another bit of his toast and raises his eyebrows at Erik.

“This is all very strange,” Erik comments, looking around. “I mean, it’s our first morning together and we’re just sitting here chatting, and shouldn’t I be trying to convince you to have more sex, or be bending you over the kitchen table, or something.”

All of that sounds good to Charles. He licks some stray butter off his lips and Erik’s eyes follow his tongue.

“Maybe it’s that you don’t have to convince me to have more sex,” Charles says, taking another bite of his toast, and his cock is starting to tingle. It appears Erik Lehnsherr likes a heaping bowl of sexy flirt with his morning coffee. “I’m pretty sure zero persuasion would be needed.”

“Back to bed then?”

“Fuck me against the kitchen counter?”

“Yessssss.”

The rest of Charles’ toast gets cold. Erik never manages to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“We really should stay in bed all day,” Erik says later, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look down at Charles, who is lying in bed feeling boneless and deliciously fucked. “Isn’t that what you do when you start a new relationship?”

Charles raises his head to look at Erik.

“Who says this is a new relationship?”

“I do,” Erik says with a look of consternation on his face, his voice serious, “I don’t want some sort of fling with you, Charles. I never have...”

“...really?”

“Really. If that was what I wanted, I would have dragged you into a supply closet and fucked your brains out, just like Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Oh, please. That is so unprofessional, to treat the workplace like it’s just there for dating and sex, and I am a professional, you know….”

“...but you would have done it…”

Charles pauses for moment, looking at Erik, carefully weighing what his next words will be.

“Yes.”

“HA!”

“Wait,” Charles says, his eyes narrowing. “You made it sound like instead of dragging me into a supply closet, your alternative was to stalk me on the train. Because you wanted a relationship and not a quick fuck. Do you not see something wrong with your approach?”

Now it’s Erik’s turn to look guilty.

“Maybe.”

“And you said you were checking out my ass in the elevator.”

“I did say that,”

“Dr. Lehnsherr, you’re a total creeper,” Charles exclaims. “You followed me to the train on purpose.”

Erik blushes.

“You shook your ass at me on purpose,”

Charles want to tell Erik that it’s not nice to blame his stalker behavior on Charles’ ass. “that was after you flirted with me.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I saw you shake it a little in the elevator,” Erik says, clearly biting back laughter, “Clearly your ass has a mind of its own. Clearly it wanted me before you even know you did. It’s quite the cheeky ass.”

“You are entirely ridiculous.”

“I might be, but god, I love your ass.” Erik licks his lips, thinking about Charles’ ass and what he plans to do with it. Oh god. This man makes Charles think all sorts of dirty things, “ I love it so much," Erik continues.

“Yes,” Charles says dryly, biting his lower lip, “You’ve made that quite apparent.”

“And your blue eyes are ridiculously sexy,” Erik continues, “And your mouth is telling me that it wants to suck my cock.”

“Really Erik?” Charles asks, “Now you’re having my mouth AND my ass gang up on me?”

“Seriously, Charles,” Erik says, his voice a little more husky.

“So soon?”

Erik nods, his eyes bright. It sounds like a delightful idea, and Charles relishes the image of Erik writing as he sucks him off, so Charles decides he might as well do it.

Erik grins and Charles rolls over and tucks himself between Erik’s legs.

“You know, I have an idea that might fix your dating problem,” Erik says later as they’re stretched out naked on the couch after sharing a sandwich, because after blowing Erik, Charles declared he was starving, and it seems that clothing has become optional for today. Charles is content, tracing patterns on Erik’s bare chest, and he thinks he hasn’t had this much sex in such a short period of time since he was much younger. Even with Scott. It’s rather lovely.

“My dating problem?”

“Well, the fact that you don’t date people you work with.”

“I don’t.”

“You clearly fuck them.”

“Just you, Erik,” Charles sighs. He is not some workplace slut. He has standards and boundaries. “I don’t fuck them, just you.”

“Point taken. Anyway, I’ve thought about what you said. About having to work with someone you’ve had a relationship with and then things go sour and you still have to rely on them to get your job done. That’s pretty much your concern, right?”

“Pretty much.” Charles agrees. “In a nutshell.”

“Well, what if we don’t date.”

Charles is confused. Is Erik suggesting they just be friends with benefits, meet for the occasional fuck and call it a day? Considering the level of freak-out Erik displayed when he thought Charles might be hurt, this seems awfully strange. And it's not really what Charles wants, although he’s not sure what it is he wants in the first place. He’s not quite sure where Erik is going with this.

“How could we not date?” Charles asks after thinking about what Erik is saying for a few minutes, while Erik just watches him trying to sort out what he’s suggesting, and for the life of him, Charles still can't make sense of it.

“Well,” Erik says, looking at Charles with the same kind of trepidation you get when you’re standing on the top of a very high diving board about to jump into what looks like a very small pool, and you’re pretty sure you might vomit on the way down. Erik takes a deep breath and takes the plunge. “We could get married.” Erik says quickly, then he looks at Charles, waiting to see how he responds.

Charles freezes, because the shock he feels is just like he thinks it would feel to hit the water from a hundred feet up.

What did Erik just say?

What the fuck.

~TBC~


	7. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is more than a little stunned.

They’ve been fucking for less than 24 hours and Charles and Erik are having their first fight. It might be a world record. What the fuck, Charles thinks. Everything about Erik is topsy turvey and upside down.

Charles can’t breathe once his brain processes that Erik has asked him to fucking MARRY him. He can’t breath and he can’t think and he can’t stay there curled against Erik, so he leaps up and stands stark naked in the middle of his living room, his fists clenched tight, his whole body trembling. He’s glaring at Erik.

“Take it back.”

_...ohmygodohmygodohmygod…_

Erik has pushed himself up to sitting and is watching him from the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes refuse to look away.

“No.” Erik says quietly, “I will not take it back.”

“We’ve known each other for less than a month,” Charles says, starting to pace, unclenching his fists then clenching them again. “A fucking month. You don’t ask someone to marry you after a month. What kind of crazy person asks someone to marry them after a month?s”

_...ohmygodohmygodohmygod…_

Erik still doesn’t move from the couch. He just sits there, watching Charles pace. His face is impassive and unapologetic.

“I guess I do,” Erik shrugs. Charles stops pacing and stares at Erik, his mouth hanging open.

“Goddammit, Erik, TAKE IT BACK.” Charles almost yells, pacing again. His heart is racing and and he can’t take this right now. He just can’t take it. Not after what happened with Scott. Not when he’s been so hurt.

“No.” Erik says firmly.

Charles stops in front of him, glaring at Erik, who is now crossing his arms across his bare chest. How can this man be so impertinent and stubborn.

“It’s marriage, Erik. MARRIAGE. It’s not just a way to get around my rules so you can make it better for me. Marriage. For better or for worse. Til death do us part.”

Erik’s mouth is growing tight, and finally Charles is getting a reaction from him, “I am well aware of what I’m proposing, Charles.”

“What exactly are proposing, Erik?” Charles spits out.

“Marry me,” Erik says again, “You’re worried about me walking away, that it will make work awkward, and you won’t listen to the fact that I’m not going to walk away, so the best thing I can think of is getting married. That way you’ll know that I already know; that I’m taking us seriously and I’m not going to walk away.”

Charles blinks at Erik and shakes his head, like it’s a dream and maybe he can wake up. It’s the fucking craziest thing he’s ever heard. Charles takes a deep shaking breath and continues telling Erik that this is the most insane thing anyone has ever said to him, as he paces back and forth.

“Marriage isn’t some solution to a problem. It’s forever, Erik. It’s love. You marry someone you’re in love with.” Charles stops and stares at Erik pointedly, “The problem with your plan is that you don’t love me. You can’t.”

Erik swallows, and keeps staring at Charles from the couch, still not moving, “You’re wrong,” he says quietly. What the fuck is Erik saying? Charles collapses into his overstuffed chair and puts his face in his hands, moaning.

“No. No, you can’t do this to me. You can’t swoop into my life and be like this, incredible and sweet and sexy, and then ask me to marry you and tell me that you might love me too. You can’t. No.”

“It’s not ‘might love you’ Charles. I do love you.” Erik says softly, then repeats the dreaded words, making them even more real, “I love you.”

Charles has been here before. He’s thought he was in love and thought it was forever, and it was all a lie.

“So you want to marry me so I’ll know you won’t walk away, but we barely know each other. What happens in six months, or a year, when things blow apart. We divorce, like marriage was just a means to an end.”

“I’m not going to divorce you, Charles,” Erik says softly, “I mean it when I say I want to marry you. I mean it forever. I love you. I’m not planning on stopping loving you in a year, or five, or ten, or fifty. Or ever, really.”

Charles melts. His heart becomes a puddle and he thinks if he looks on the floor he’d see it, and he’s going to be brain dead, because his heart is entirely melted.

“You barely know me,” Charles says weakly, feeling strangely sad. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of, and he can’t say yes.

“I know you.” Erik says firmly, refusing to be swayed. As always, Erik is a rock, “You are funny, and incredibly caring. You take care of the people around you. You adore your sister and take care of your slightly crazy mother. You have this empathy that is unique, a way of getting to the core of who people are and understanding them, which is something that few people possess. You are dedicated to what you do and committed to your job. You are a GOOD person. And you are the sexiest man I’ve ever met, and I want you in a way that I’ve never wanted anyone else. Not just your body but every single part of you.”

Charles blushes and he can’t breathe for a reason other than the anger and regret that’s been coursing through him.

“I know you,” Erik repeats.

“All of that in a month?”

“All of that on the train, and a lot of it before we even met, just from watching you and asking about you.”

Erik gets up from the couch and comes to stand in front of Charles, who finds he can’t move. Any other time the sight of Erik naked might drive Charles wild, but now it just makes everything seem more vulnerable and perfect. They are entirely bared to each other, body and soul. There is nothing to shield them. Not even clothes. Erik goes down onto one knee and takes Charles’ hand in his. Charles flinches at the contact. His eyes are wet as he looks at Erik.

“I’m not asking you to marry me just to solve a problem, although, it will solve the problem. It will help you understand that I’m not wanting to be involved with you in any temporary manner. I’m not intending on going anywhere. Ever.”

“Erik,” Charles whispers, feeling entirely overwhelmed by how he’s feeling as he listens to the other man’s words.

“Wait,” Erik says softly, “I’m not finished yet. I’m going to marry you, Charles. I’ve known that since the moment you peered at me over that damn book and chastised me for all my dirty thoughts. If things had been different, if you weren’t so fucking neurotic and so fucking damaged, maybe we could just date until one day I asked you to make it legal. The way I look at it is maybe we could act like that’s not where all this is headed and do the dating thing and the living together thing, or we can just admit what’s happening between and get married. That way you know without a doubt that I am not going to end up hating you and making your life miserable. You know that this is the real thing.”

Charles breath hitches.

“But I wanted to marry Scott and it blew up. I loved him, Erik. He was the real thing to me.”

Erik’s mouth twists and a look of anger shadows his eyes.

“I’m not Scott. I’m Erik. I’m yours. You might have been Scott’s, but he was never yours.”

“And what if I don’t love you. What if I’m you’re Scott.”

Erik chuckles a little, “You’re not. You would have kicked me out the moment I said the words if you didn’t feel the same.”

Charles frowns. The man has a point. There hasn’t been a moment since Erik uttered the words that Charles has thought that he didn’t actually want to marry Erik, just that it was impossible that one would ask after only knowing a person a month, and why would Erik want to marry him. Erik is correct. Charles hasn’t once thought that he might not want to marry Erik. Holy shit. Something inside Charles settles into place, clicks in a way that fits perfectly. He can breath again, and slowly an entirely different feeling bubbles up, something akin to exuberance, and Charles starts to feel like he might shine with it.

“Okay.” Charles says quietly, giving Erik a small, hesitant smile.

“Okay?” Erik echoes, searching his face, looking for something. “Okay, you have a point, brilliant Dr. Lehnsherr? Okay, you win, Erik. Okay, I’ll marry you? What is okay?”

_...ohmygodohmygodohmygod…_

“Okay, I’ll marry you.”

Erik looks stunned, as if that wasn’t the answer he’d expected to hear. His hand tightens on Charles and his eyes are shining with tears.

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” Charles laughs, feeling happiness bubbling up inside him. “I’ll marry you, Erik. I’ll make it legal and wear your ring and marry you.”

Erik is smiling now, that huge grin that takes over his entire face, and he’s laughing, and Charles pulls Erik up into his lap until the larger man is sprawled across him and they’re kissing, long and deep and so sweet that Charles thinks he might break into pieces from how much he’s feeling.

This is real.

He can see now that he didn’t love Scott. Not like this. Not like he’s going to be turned inside out because the feeling is so intense. He thought he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, but he really liked the idea of having someone more than he liked Scott. Erik is different. Erik is a feeling that’s lodged under his skin, an ache that doesn’t go away, and he LOVES him with a ferocity that is immeasurable. He doesn’t need flowers and string quartets, he wants this. The two of them, naked, vulnerable, sliding up against each other, mouths crashing together, both of them sobbing, and Erik is saying his name over and over again, running his hands up and down Charles’ arms like he’s so overwhelmed that he’s not quite sure what to do with them.

Erik pulls back and tips his head to gaze down into Charles’ eyes.

“When I heard it was you who was attacked,” Erik says, the shadow of pain in his eyes again, and Charles wants to wipe everything away, although he knows that they are both going to have to live with what happened, “I knew I was going to come here and never let you go. I know that might sound a little creepy, but I knew I couldn’t live without you one more minute, damn your rules and damn your space.”

“Nice to know you were planning to violate every single thing I’d asked you to do,” Charles jokes, “It’s actually kind of sweet. But yeah, creepy. Creepy-sweet.”

“I had a speech prepared.” Erik says, arching an eyebrow and smiling down at Charles, as if that justifies everything. A speech. Ridiculous man.

“What you did worked. No speech needed. I’ve been wanting you to kiss me for so long. Dreaming of you kissing me. Once you did it, I wasn’t going to stop, and I needed that yesterday. Needed it so badly.”

He still does. Oh my god, he needs Erik so much that it hurts, and Charles closes his eyes and the need washes over him, more tears leaking onto his cheeks. He tells Erik this, placing a soft kiss on his nose, asking him to take him to bed.

This time they take it slow. So slow that it leaves Charles writhing on the bed, begging for release, but Erik lingers and kisses and whispers across his skin, completely lost in his reverence for Charles. And when he can finally get release, finally come, his body clenching and his cock pulsing, Charles bites into Erik’s clavicle and clings to his shoulders and tells him that he’s his forever. For the rest of their lives.

Charles is sweaty and sticky and entirely spent, blissed out beyond belief and he watches Erik through hooded eyes as she pulls out, leaning over Charles to kiss him softly then stands up to deposit the spent-condom into the bedroom garbage can. Then Charles says it, those words that he’s known all along, but now he can say them and when they come out, they feel so fucking good, because they are true.

“I love you, Erik.”

Erik stops and turns back to look at Charles. Then he’s laughing, a great, loud booming sound, and he’s crawling back onto the bed, pulling Charles into his arms and laughing like he’s finally able to let go of something he’s been holding inside. Pure and utter joy.

~TBC~


	8. Then Comes Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading. I'm done. This has been totally fun. 20K words in two days. Whew.

Erik is waiting outside report with coffee on Charles first day back at work and Angel sees this, then later corners Charles in the med room to get the scoop.

“I guess you and Dr. L. are back on,” she says, grinning.

“You could say that,” Charles shrugs. Angel is still grinning like she’s figured it all out when she glances at Charles’ wedding ring. That’s the point when she shrieks so loudly that Charles has to cover his ears.

\----

They tell Raven in person the night that Charles says ‘yes’. He doesn’t really want to leave his house. He wants to stay in bed and fuck and eat, but Erik says they really should make this very brief engagement official.

“Very brief?” Charles asks, lying on his side, running a foot up and down Erik’s calf, trying his best to distract him.

“Yes,” Erik says, “very brief. I have every intention of marrying you before you go back to work.”

“Ummmmm,” Charles hums, looking at Erik like he’s crazy, because, um, he IS, “Erik, that’s in three more days.”

Erik grins. “I guess it is.”

When they tell her, standing in the middle of her studio surrounded by Raven-art, Raven screams and jumps up and down and hugs Charles, then hugs Erik, then hugs Charles again.

“OH MY GOD,” she gasps, “I’m going to make a sculpture for you two. You can put it in your living room.”

“Um, thanks?” Erik says trepidatiously. Charles smiles because he knows that Erik remains mystified by Raven’s art, and he’s not sure what she’ll make and if it would even fit in the living room.

“I assume that Erik is moving in.” Raven continues, chattering like a magpie, “You’re moving in, right Erik? I mean, you’re getting married. My brother is getting fucking MARRIED!”

Hank smiles as he watches Raven hug the two of them again, looks from Charles to Erik then back to Charles again.

“Congrats.” Hanks says plainly, his eyes warm and crinkling a little at the edges because he’s still smiling. Charles loves his sister’s future husband.

They end up getting married on the train. Yes, the train, because Erik Lehnsherr is a gooey, ridiculous, romantic mess of a man and insists on it. Charles tells him they could go to city hall, and he’s sure Sharon would be happy to put together something last minute in the gardens of Westchester, but Erik says no to all those suggestions. It must be the train.

“We don’t have a lot of places that are OURS, and I’m not about to go back to that damn restaurant, and I don’t think the officiant wants to marry us in the place we’ve spent the most time together, which at this point is in our bed. That would be weird” he tells Charles as they lie tangled up together.

 _Our bed._ Charles grins. Is he ever going to get over this. He doesn’t think so. Will he be sixty years old and grinning like a madman anytime Erik says ‘our bed’? Maybe.

“And getting married on the train isn’t weird,” Charles says. "Not weird at all."

They catch the train at the stop near the hospital, to be authentic, Erik says. Hank and Raven are there, and true to Raven-form, she’s made Hank dress in drag, and Charles rolls his eyes and tells her that drag is not requisite when going to the wedding of two men. Raven shoots back that she thought Erik should have a maid of honor too. Erik smiles and puts his arm across Raven’s shoulder, giving her a big, brotherly hug.

“Your sister is very thoughtful.”

Raven beams. Charles is outnumbered. He makes a mental note that since Erik is going to be part of the Xavier family now, he really needs to make an effort not to encourage Raven and her lunacy. Not that Charles makes much of an effort himself, but he has the excuse of sharing her insanity, and being a totally soft older brother.

They say their vows, nothing fancy, because they actually don’t have much time before they reach their stop, and all the passengers applaud when the officiant announces that they are husband and husband. Erik leans down, about to place the softest, sweetest of kisses on Charles lips and just before their lips meet, Charles feels a ghost of breath against his lips as Erik whispers, ‘thank you’. Charles’ face is wet with tears and he wraps his arms around his husband, _his husband_ , and crushes him to his chest, overwhelmed by both love and gratitude.

Raven brings a cake from Charles’ favorite bakery and it turns out that Erik can cook, because he assembles a picnic lunch, and afterwards they head to a park near Charles’ town house to eat and drink champagne.

“Sharon is going to kill you,” Raven says.

“At least she’ll have your wedding to fulfill all of her Mother of the Bride dreams.”

“Ohhhh my god, what have I DONE?” Raven moans. She flops backwards into Hank’s arms and gazes up at him, “honey, we have to call it off. Now!” Hank smiles, leans down and kisses Raven soundly on the mouth. He has changed out of his maid of honor dress and back into his standard hipster skinny jeans and Charles notices that his fingernails are now painted black to match Raven’s now black hair. Seriously, too cute.

Raven makes Charles throw the bouquet she had brought with her, telling him that he's the obvious choice because he's the bride. Raven and Hank are the only ones there to catch it, and considering the ring on Raven’s finger, her being next is a foregone conclusion. Still, it’s tradition, although two men getting married after knowing each other under a month might be considered non-traditional, but Charles humors her.

Hank takes pictures with Raven’s expensive camera and Charles will treasure them for the rest of his life, because somehow Hank manages to capture exactly how happy that day is. There are pictures of Erik and Charles smiling, kissing each other, laughing. There is Raven, leaning on Erik, hugging Charles. He especially likes the one of Raven with her head on Charles’ lap, looking up at the sky, that has decided to be clear on this chilly fall day, pointing at different shapes she sees in the clouds. It reminds Charles of when they were kids with long summers and no responsibilities, spending their days lollygagging on the Xavier estate. They stay there for hours, until the suns starts to hang low in the sky. Raven and Hank say goodbye, leaving Charles and Erik to walk back to their home.

Charles makes it through his first day back at work, and although there are a few moments where he feels the panic welling up, he’s mostly okay. The news of his nuptials spreads like wildfire, and Charles smiles politely as staff member after staff members remarks that they didn’t even realize they were dating, and they did a good job of keeping it on the down-low. Charles never answers that the reason no one knew they were dating is because they never did. That’s his secret to keep.

Erik is there, checking in with him, eating lunch with him, and he asks if he’s going to be okay for the rest of his shift, because he’s heading home and will see him at dinner. _Their home._ Charles says he’s doing fine and ignores Angel, who is making googly eyes in his direction, and he goes up on tiptoe and kisses his husband goodbye. _His husband._ Charles fingers the plain gold band on his left ring finger and is amazed at how his life has suddenly changed.

When he gets home and kicks off his man-clogs, Charles pushes through the door and sings out, “Honey, I’m home.” He walks up the stairs and starts to strip off his scrubs, wondering if being entirely naked will entice Erik to skip dinner and take him to bed immediately, then stops at the doorway to his kitchen because Raven is standing in the middle of it, holding a spoon and grinning at Charles, who is now shirtless, and blushing.

“It’s our regular dinner night. It appears from your state of undress that you have forgotten this weekly event and were expecting to eat something entirely different than my lasagne.” Oh good lord, his sister can be so cheeky. Raven is smirking and looking her brother up and down. “and I can see what Erik sees in you. You’re kind of hot.”

“Totally inappropriate, Raven,” Charles says, turning to retreat to the bedroom to shower off the grime of the hospital and change his clothes. When he comes out, Raven and Erik are sitting at the kitchen table, each with a glass of wine, and there is a big, fat, delicious lasagne sitting between them, and suddenly Charles realizes he’s actually quite hungry.

Dinner is lovely. They eat and talk and joke, and Erik fits right in with Raven, who appears might be his biggest fan, and they even join forces against Charles to insist everyone go skiing in Aspen over Christmas, despite Charles whining, actually whining, he’d really like to go somewhere warm, and he had no idea that Erik likes to ski.

As soon as Raven heads down the stairs to the door, Charles starts stripping off his clothes as Erik watches him silently.

“You know, there are dishes that need to be done.” Erik says, licking his lips hungrily.

“Fuck the dishes. I thought you might like to lick my ass,” Charles says, pulling off his underwear and already half-hard.

“Fuck, yeah,” Erik growls, “...and it’s not even my birthday.”

“Ha.” Charles manages before Erik is across the room and shutting him up with a bruising kiss. He’s pretty sure he had Erik at ‘lick my ass’.

They visit Westchester and Sharon the next weekend Charles has off, and she’s out on the lawn training her corgis, sipping a gin and tonic, wearing a huge hat with a gigantic flower on it. Charles rolls his eyes because sometimes his mother thinks she’s akin to royalty, the Queen of Westchester.

Sharon does not shriek or squeal or anything remotely close to that. She’s not Raven after all. Sharon and Raven exist in the world to counterbalance each other. She looks at Charles then looks at Erik, then takes a big drink from her sweating highball. Charles holds his breath, because his mother can be biting and nasty at times, and he never knows what’s coming. Finally she speaks.

“Good,” Sharon sniffs, “I never liked that douchebag Summers anyway. Stopped giving to his mother’s pet charity entirely after that debacle. Congratulations Dr. Lehnsherr on a very worthy match. I guess that means I’ll be seeing you around after you’re through with the fellowship.”

And that is that. Charles wants more than anything to fall onto the nicely manicured expanse of green lawn and roll around, laughing until his sides hurt and he can’t breathe. He manages to stay standing and hugs his mother, who actually hugs him back for once. Oh, Sharon.

“She’s pissed she didn’t get to be part of the wedding.” Charles says on their way back to the city.

“I thought she took it very well,” Erik says, glancing over at Charles with a smile.

“I know mother,” Charles says, “she’s plotting her revenge.” Charles doesn’t know what form it will take, but last time she ended up practically taking over his hospital using charity as revenge. Sure enough, two days later an obnoxiously huge gift basket from Dean and Deluca full of housewares arrives on their doorstep.

“See,” Charles says.

“See what?” Erik asks.

“I told you mother would take her revenge.”

“All I see are some wooden spoons, a whisk and some sort of garlic peeler. Oh, and a standing mixer. And a nut chopper. And a nice All-Clad skillet. And…hey, a bowl scraper...”

“She’s out of control,” Charles moans, “She KNOWS we don’t need any of this. It’s her passive aggressive way of telling me she’s not happy.”

Erik looks at Charles for a long moment, studying him, then he smiles and says, “I’m starting to see where the crazy comes from. Maybe you should take up a cause your mother doesn’t care about, like cholera and your mother will decide to punish you by providing clean water to the entire world.”

“Very funny. Ha. ha.”

They fall into bed when they get home, just like they do pretty much every time they get home, unable to get enough of each other, which is how newlyweds should be. When they are done, sweaty and satiated, and Charles has tucked his head into Erik’s shoulder and he’s in that place between waking and sleeping, starting to drift away towards slumber, Charles realizes that he’s incredibly, deeply happy. Blissfully happy. All because Erik is kind of creepy and decided he wanted to get to know that cute nurse and followed him onto the train one night. All because Charles should have walked away, but against his better judgement decided to reciprocate with a cheeky ass wiggle. It’s funny how life works out.

And now, every time he takes the train now, he’s reminded of Erik. His husband. The one who looks at him like he’s the sun and the moon combined. The man on the train who entirely changed his life.

~fin~


End file.
